Through Another's Eyes
by Torithy
Summary: Surviving over twenty years as an old lady? That's a tale worth hearing ... One of love and passion, danger and excitement. And loss. Heart-breaking, gut-wrenching loss.
1. One

**Author's Note: T****his does follow on from some of my other fics - Casting Shadows, Getaway, Chasing Lights & Kill Shots. If you wanted to read it without bothering with them, you could. Equally, if you want to go back, that's the order they come in. Koz fans ... Brace yourselves. And as always, would love to know what you think!**

**PS: Big love to the Freak Circle for keeping me sane. Relatively speaking. ;)**

* * *

**Through Another's Eyes**

**One**

A new patch to celebrate – one of the admittedly many things guaranteed to give the average Friday night party that extra kick and turn it into something to really remember. Or not, depending on the alcohol intake.

They all knew it and thrived on the thrill of anticipation. Everyone would turn out, from brothers to hang-arounds, with even more preening than usual from the croweaters who flocked to the clubhouse. Especially for a night like this and the veritable coming-of-age of a second-generation Son.

For the women already gathered, eyeing each other like coyotes waiting to pick off the runt of the litter, it was all about showing off the goods. Barely-there skirts and sky-high stilettos, all tits and teeth and big hair. That was how to get the right kind of attention. But getting it was one thing, keeping it was definitely another. Sons were worth the effort though. Admittedly, some more than others.

Some were fast approaching being past it, clinging to shadows of their younger days like they clung to the throttle of the bikes they knew they'd soon have to give up forever. And when you don't ride, you don't vote and the patch worn with pride turned bittersweet might as well be a Boy Scout badge for all the clout it wields.

But others held power and that was a hell of an aphrodisiac – one that negated consideration for the aesthetics. Or lack thereof. From the president and vice-president, to the sergeant-at-arms and intelligence officer, even the goddamn secretary, they were prime targets.

And some had ... potential. The young upstarts looking to impress, perhaps follow in a father's footsteps. The prospects weren't worth more than making a note for the future – but those who'd just earned their top rocker ... They were the ones to watch.

Sure enough, when the chapel doors were thrown open and the newest fully-fledged Son strode through them with a fresh swagger in his step, more than two dozen eyes immediately shifted to linger on his tall form. As if as one, the predatory female gazes trailed from the tousled blond hair down the broad chest and inked arms, watching and waiting as his brothers welcomed him with hugs and hearty slaps on the back.

But, while they were biding their time, one woman was the first to step forward and no one dared try to deny her. In her perfectly tailored jeans, stiletto-heeled boots and immaculate white vest top, blonde hair framing her face in a stylish bob, she was every inch the old lady.

"No tears, mom," the newest Son warned, shooting her a roguish grin that brought a host of memories flooding back as he swept her into a hug.

"No tears," she promised, though her green eyes shone too brightly when she held him at arm's length to look at him properly. "Leo Kozik, your dad would be so damn _proud_."

"I know," he nodded. "This is his cut."

His mother traced careful fingers over familiar scars in the leather, but they didn't have time for that to hit her like it no doubt would later. His brothers took care of that, sweeping him away to ensure he made the most of the festivities. The drinking would come first, then it would be time for the girls to do their best to snare a suitable target before the party really got going.

* * *

"When I'm an old lady, no way is my man going to be spending Friday nights round here," one such hopeful croweater announced with a flick of her glossy dark hair, slamming down her glass in frustration at having been overlooked so far by her Son of choice.

"Can you even hear yourself, Mercedes? You weren't complaining about Paulie leaving his old lady home alone when you were on your knees for him in front of everyone last week."

"I was NOT!" the girl in question protested hotly. "I like to think I've got a little bit more _class_ than you bitches."

"Oh, class, huh? That why you're called Mercedes? And here was me thinking it was just because everyone's had a ride ..."

But before the spat could blow up into a fully-fledged row, the old lady they'd all eyed enviously on her arrival was suddenly in front of them and the argument trailed into sullen silence. "Now, I know you're not thinking about spoiling my son's party getting your little claws out, girls," Tasha interrupted, with a dangerously deceptive smile on her face. "So how about you zip those mouths 'til they're needed for something other than talking and go see if anyone needs any more drinks, okay? Good."

They didn't dare so much as mutter their dissent under their collective breath as they did as they were told. Or at least they were headed in that direction, before Mercedes drew up short with a curse of disbelief.

"Uh, who the hell is _that_?" she demanded, staring across the clubhouse to where none other than Abel Teller was sprawled on a couch with a fresh-faced little redhead on his lap. "And what's she come as?"

Taking in the cutesy outfit, another of the regular croweaters quickly made the connection and started to laugh. "Jesus, she actually came back! That's the chick driving the dinky little sports car that broke down just outside. Abel went to play white knight and, hey, I guess he invited her."

The explanation did nothing to ease Mercedes' outrage and she all but stamped her foot her frustration. "Are you actually shitting me? Some sweet-as-pie little girl thinks she can waltz into this life because she breaks down in the fucking yard, like it's fate or some bullshit ... Hell, no. I'm gonna squash this shit."

"Whoa, simmer down, 'Cedes," came the warning. "You go causing trouble tonight and the only thing that's getting squashed round here is you – like a bug when Tasha or Tara finds out. You really wanna risk the wrath of the wife of the sergeant or the president? Or both?"

The raven-haired wannabe old lady was obviously winding up to throw a real fit, but instead forced herself to take a deep calming breath, adjusted the plunging neckline of her skin-tight dress, and simply rose above it. "Like it matters," she scoffed. "Bitch won't last five minutes. A break-down, what a fucking cliché ..."

"Cliché? Spoken like someone who's never heard Koz and Tasha's story. You do know that's exactly how they met, right? Twenty-something years ago. Oh yeah, real MC fairytale, those two ..."

* * *

**to be continued ...**


	2. Two

**Author's Note: When I reposted this, to save messing you about too much, I lumped the prologue and first chapter into one part. I've reintroduced the split where it was intended. Next (new) update will be posted straight after.**

* * *

**Two**

Caught off-guard by the interjection, Mercedes stared at the older woman who had spoken up from her stool at the quietest corner of the bar and took in the fading looks of the croweater. Whoever she was, she'd obviously put a good few miles on the clock over the years. Considering how little the deep, weather-beaten tan did for the lines around the woman's dark eyes, she shook her head with a sneer she knew was condescending, but hell if she cared. This broad – with a body that might once have been something, but was now definitely ... _lived-in_, to be generous about it - might have been around longer than most, but it evidently hadn't been to her advantage.

"Fairytales, _please_," she scoffed. "Even I'm too old for that bullshit and I got thirty years on you, easy."

But, while the woman's eyes hardened, she simply smiled and lazily twirled the stirrer in her gin and tonic. "You, little girl, need to open those pretty eyes and take a long, hard look at the real world."

"Excuse me? Says the bitch harping on about dumbass fairytales in an MC clubhouse! And hang on a minute, 'cause I don't seem to recall asking for your opinion in the first place."

"Pity," came the cool response. "Because if you at least had the sense to realise you maybe don't got all the answers, you'd be saving yourself a whole heap of wasted effort. Swanning round here, thinking you're gonna bag yourself a Son when the truth of it should be right in front of that stuck-up nose. And I thought I'd seen everything. A hooker with a superiority complex ... Christ."

"I. Am. Not. A. _Hooker_!" Mercedes was getting increasingly shrill and the couple of girls hovering behind her made futile efforts to get her to simmer down before she really started drawing the wrong kind of attention.

"No, that's true," the older woman conceded, unconcerned by the show of temper and signalling to the prospect who was playing bartender. "At least you could argue a hooker's got business sense – you're just offering up free rides to anyone in a cut. Or blowjobs. I'm betting you get a lot of blowjob requests. Lord knows I'd shove something in that mouth, just so I didn't have to listen to you. Drink?"

Boiling point fast approaching, Mercedes bit down on her lip to the point of pain, her fists clenched tight by her sides. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she seethed.

"I used to be you."

* * *

Ignoring what looked like another row brewing among some of the croweaters by the bar, Tasha rolled her eyes and drained the last of her white wine. But just as she was contemplating whether or not to go investigate the disturbance, toying thoughtfully with the stem of her now empty glass, another bottle appeared over her shoulder.

"Don't worry about that lot," the club president's wife smiled, brushing aside the half-hearted protests. "Come on, I reckon all this organising earns us a top-up before things get too crazy. Don't leave me to drink this alone."

"Well, if it's on doctor's orders ..." Tasha shrugged, handing over the glass for a refill and gazing around the dimly lit room. "It ever get any easier?"

Pausing in pulling up a chair to follow her line of sight, Tara Teller reflected on the sight of the man her own eldest son had become and realised what she meant. "Seeing your baby with that reaper on his back? Nope."

"Not the answer I was hoping for," came the resigned sigh. "But I thought as much."

"If you think it's tough with Leo, just wait until Daniel wants to prospect too."

Tasha snorted at the suggestion and took a long sip of wine. It was a little too dry for her taste, but by now, it was that or hard spirits and she really didn't fancy the hangover. "No need to wait for that. I've known since he pulled the stabilisers off his trike when he was five that he was destined to be another Son one day."

"They were always going to follow in their dads' footsteps, weren't they? Abel and Thomas, Leo and Daniel ..."

It was a concept that filled both women with equal parts pride and dread. The mere thought of their children facing the same level of brutal violence as had more than sporadically blighted their parents' lives was, even after all these years, still enough to chill their blood. And Tasha especially had plenty of just cause for concern. She had, after all, already lost so much.

* * *

_**FLASHBACK**_

"Tig ..." Tasha started, surprised to open the front door and find the biker with his back to her.

He turned around and she trailed off as soon as she saw the look on his face, endless possibilities already turning over in her mind. Her mind was racing and her heart quickly catching up.

It had to have been nearly twelve hours since she'd been woken in her husband's arms by long, slow goodbye kisses, looking up into those piercing blue eyes as he held her and made her promise not to worry. Twelve hours since he'd dragged himself out of the comfort of their bed and into the shower, before heading out. Club business, something to do with that goddamn cartel - that was all she had known and, to be honest, it had been more disclosure than she wanted. She hated this new danger they'd somehow found themselves caught up in and knew, considering his past, that Kozik did too.

She'd been expecting him home any minute. Or at least on the phone, reassuring her. Instead, she had one of his brothers on the doorstep with that look on his face and ... Jesus, no. She inhaled sharply as she took in the second cut in Tig's arms. "No." There was no masking the devastation in the sharp eyes that struggled to meet hers and, all at once, it was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. "Oh please, _no_ ..."

Seeming to realise she was already second-guessing him, the usually ruthless sergeant reached for her even as her face started to crumple. She'd have given anything right then to be able to stay frozen in that last moment of denial. But she already knew it was the last moment she'd have before her life changed forever.

"Please, no ..." she begged, clutching at Tig's shirt as she struggled to breathe against the iron band of fear that seemed to have wrapped itself around her chest. "Tell me he's just hurt. Please, oh god, _please_ ..."

"I ... I wish I could," he managed. Despite their years of animosity, his own grief for the man who had once been the closest of his brothers looked like it could threaten to overwhelm even him. "I really do, doll. Jax'll be here soon, but they ... they say there was a landmine and ... and ... Jesus, Tash, I can't believe his dumb ass is _gone_."

The pure agony in her stricken cry drew stinging tears to his eyes and he crushed her to his chest to rock her clumsily as she broke down completely - sobs racking her body as she clung to him. "I'm so sorry. So fucking _sorry_, sweetheart."

"Not Koz, not my Koz ..." she cried, as she simply fell apart in his arms.

Giving up trying to soothe her and letting her get it out instead, as hot tears tracked his own cheeks, Tig was at a loss as to what to do for the best and beginning to regret taking it on himself to be the one to break the news. He had felt like he owed Kozik that much, but he wasn't what she needed. Fuck, no one was that, apart from Koz – but maybe Chibs or Bobby would have handled it better and ... Jesus Christ, the kids ...

"Mommy?"

The small scared voice from the doorway made his head turn sharply and a fresh jolt of pain twisted in his gut at the sight. His brother's bright blue eyes seemed to look up at him out of the little girl's face.

"Uncle Tig, why is mommy crying?" Lily whispered, creeping forward just a little.

"Mommy's ... mommy's just very sad right now," he tried, his own voice sounding too husky for his liking as he held out an arm to the frightened child. "C'mere, kiddo – it's okay."

"You should get my daddy," Lily informed him, as she trotted over after his attempt at reassurance. "Daddy would give mommy kisses and make it all better and then she wouldn't be sad anymore."

"Why don't you give her kisses instead for now, baby girl?" Tig suggested gently, scooping her up with one arm and lifting her so she could wrap both hers around Tasha's neck. He hated more than he could say that the little girl had lost the father she adored so very young – her brother Leo barely more than a baby really. "Tash," he murmured in her ear, too low for Lily to hear. "Darlin', you got two kids who need you ... You gotta try. For them."

* * *

"You ready to go?"

Startled out of the reverie that seemed to have misted her eyes over, Tasha blinked to clear them before looking up. "You're not staying with the guys?"

"Thought I'd take my wife home."

"You two go on," Tara nodded, seeming to realise how hard a day like this must be and having quietly allowed her friend her moment's reflection. "I got this under control. I'll finish this glass, then once the prospects have their clear-up orders, I'll probably head home anyway. And don't worry about Daniel, he can come stay with Thomas."

"As long as you're sure ..."

For a long time, Tasha had thought that losing the man who had been the centre of her world would be the end of her as well. Or at least the end of the person she had once been. Kozik had been her husband and protector, her lover and her best friend. The fact that he was also the father of her beautiful children had only made everything she felt for him all the stronger. Fiercer. It had never crossed her mind that she would ever have room in her heart for anyone else.

But now, surreal as it could still feel even after all these years, she had another diamond and another band of platinum on her wedding finger. Her feelings for Kozik weren't any less - just different. But she had to be true to the life left to her and everything in it. Her children, Lily and Leo and Daniel, her family. She couldn't get away with just existing when she had them to think about. She had to _live_, no matter how hard that was without him.

And she had to keep trying to be fair to the man who had been her unexpected rock through the hardest of times.

"Two seconds," she told him.

Crossing the room quickly to ruffle Leo's hair and press a kiss to his temple as she told him she was calling it a night – and warned him not to land himself in the ER – Tasha Lowman stole a last glance around the clubhouse and then slipped her hand into her husband's to follow him into the growing dusk.

"He'd be proud as hell, you know," came his gruff voice, once they were outside and away from the revellers who'd spilled beyond the Redwood doors. "Of Leo. Of you. I'm so fucking proud of you, girl."

A tiny smile tugged at her lips, even as the tears welled up again. "I know."

* * *

**to be continued ...**


	3. Three

******Author's Note: I've been struggling to write anything lately, but trust me, it wasn't for want of trying. Hopefully, I'm finally (slowly) breaking the writer's block. It's probably a phrase I've used to loosely in the past, because this was dire - was starting to think my brain was broken! Big thanks to everyone reading and reviewing, and to the Freaks for all the support. As always, would love to know what you think. :)**

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**Three**

On another occasion, he'd probably have been enjoying the clubhouse festivities almost as much as anyone. He wasn't getting any younger and he had a beautiful wife to think about, so croweaters didn't hold the same attraction they once had. But drinks with his brothers, shooting the shit, maybe a lap dance if he was pushing it – hell yeah, he was still down with all that. On any other night.

And, for once, his motives weren't selfish either.

There had been plenty of occasions over the years when he'd skipped out early on club parties, smugly flipping his jeering brothers the bird and taking his woman home to bed. Not tonight. He saw the dawning in her eyes when he turned down a narrow, winding road and she looked over at him from the passenger seat of her cage. Reaching out, he let his free hand rest on her knee as he drove and felt hers settle on top with an easy familiarity.

She'd been his now for longer than she'd been anyone else's, even if he realised there was a piece of her heart that would never belong to him. When it came to anything else about her, he knew how possessive he could be. But _that_ ... That he understood. And it was something he could never bring himself to resent. Not when she'd given him so much. Everything he'd never imagined he would have, in fact – love and a family, with a kid of his own and two more he'd die for just as quick.

She was everything he'd told himself he'd never wanted and yet the mere thought of his life without her now hit him harder than he cared to admit. That perspective never failed to give him fresh respect for her strength.

"Thank you," came the quiet whisper as he pulled over outside the gates of the cemetery, making him simply lean over to capture her mouth in a firm kiss.

The days and weeks after his death had been hellish for them all, forcing them to more or less watch helplessly as the club seemed to fracture in front of their eyes and their family took hit after hit. The shit with the cartel had put them in way over their heads and was threatening to drown them. Some faster than others.

They hadn't even had time to grieve properly, struggling as they were to re-group in a desperate bid to stay strong against the enemies piling up at their collective door. It wasn't an excuse, but it was a reason for their neglect of those relegated to the fringes. And with Tasha having taken to shutting herself off from the Samcro family, she had admittedly been allowed to drift from its heart.

Not anymore. He'd made sure of that.

"I'll be here when you're done, darlin'," Happy said, his hand cupping her cheek to keep her face tilted up to his. "Sooner if you need me. Go tell him your boy did good."

From the shine in her eyes, he could tell she was emotional, but she simply nodded calmly and slide out of the car. It was a far cry from the first time he'd found her by Kozik's grave – her body racked with sobs, as she mourned for everything that had been torn away from her. Her husband, the father of her children, her future.

He hadn't been sure anyone could bring her back from that dark place, least of all him, and he sure as hell hadn't meant for it to happen the way it had. It could have made things worse. A hell of a lot worse.

* * *

"I used to be you ..."

Even as the words resonated in Mercedes' ears, the woman seated comfortably on the bar stool in front of her nodded her head. "Sneer if you like, but it's true. I thought I had the run of this place, once upon a time."

Still eying her suspiciously, the younger woman rolled her eyes and made a show of nonchalantly examining her nails. If there was one thing she hated, it was someone assuming she was stupid. "So you're just another croweater past her sell-by date. You know how many bitches like you I've seen come and go? Look, I didn't just drift in here off the street, okay? So I really don't need your words of wisdom. The guys came to _me_."

"Came to you, huh?"

Narrowing her eyes at the wry smile, Mercedes straightened her shoulders and flicked her hair back from her face as she drew herself up to her full height. "That's right. Came to me. I was working a bike show in Lodi – couple of the guys recognised me. I'm a model – been in a lot of car and bike magazines."

"Good for you," came the response, still with that same bemused look. "Oh, sorry. Were you expecting me to be impressed that you got your tits out on the hood of some muscle car? Don't make you special, darlin'. To be honest, you girls are looking pretty tame these days. You got what? Couple of centrefolds between you? Shoulda been here when CaraCara was open for business. Place was wall-to-wall porn stars."

"Look, I don't get what the hell kind of point you're trying to make, but ..."

"Then listen up," the woman snapped, leaning forward to jab a finger at the startled group of girls. "Prancing around here like you own the place, disrespecting people who are real family to this club, thinking that one day your little dream of being an old lady will just fall into your lap. If it ain't happened yet, it ain't _ever_ happening. If you can handle that, fine. Know your role, keep your nose out of business that ain't yours and keep your mouth shut. But you go thinking you can push your way to something more ... Only think it's gonna get you is _gone_."

Spotting an in, Mercedes planted her hands on her hips and smirked in triumph. "And if you're so keen on private business, why exactly are you sticking your nose into mine?" The petulant _so there_ hung unsaid between them.

The woman turned her attention back to her drink. "Look around, little girl. These guys fuck cheap pussy – they don't marry it and they sure as shit don't love it. Maybe I'm just sick of picking up the pieces."

* * *

Kneeling in front of the small simple headstone in the growing dusk, Tasha absently picked a few stray leaves from the neat grave and then managed a smile as she reached out to trace her fingers over the familiar letters. She hadn't been a Kozik for quite some time, but she still felt almost as strong a connection as ever to the man whose scant ashes were scattered in the quiet shade of the trees.

"Hi," she whispered softly. There was always that initial moment where she never knew quite what to say or how to be. It did seem to help though and, once that first sting as if of fresh loss was gone, there was always plenty to tell him. All the milestones in their kids' lives for a start, how his brothers were doing, what was new with her.

"Our baby boy's all grown up now, Koz," she started, her hand still resting on the stone as if it brought her closer to him. "A full patch. You'd be so proud. And he's wearing your cut. If I hadn't promised him I wouldn't cry, I'd have been in floods of tears. I can't help being scared though. Watch over him, honey. Keep him safe for me."

Letting her eyes drift closed as if in silent prayer, Tasha could picture those piercing blue eyes and that self-assured grin. She could practically feel his lips on hers, knowing that would have been exactly how he'd have reassured her – with a kiss and a smile and a vow that he'd always be there to have Leo's back.

Except he wasn't.

She blinked back fresh tears and brought her fingers to her lips, then pressing a kiss to the headstone with them.

"I gotta go," she said quietly, her voice just a little huskier than usual. "Happy's waiting. I ... I still wonder how you feel about that, even now. I never would have made it this far without him though. And loving him has never changed what we had. I love you, Koz. I miss you. Sleep tight, honey."

She stood and dusted off the knees of her jeans before heading back to the car, spotting Happy leaning against the side of it to have a smoke. When she reached him, he was stubbing the butt out with the toe of his boot and exhaling a last stream of smoke into the night air.

"You okay?"

Tasha simply nodded, letting her hand settle over the steady thump of his heart as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Let's go home."

"You got it, doll."

* * *

By the time they'd reached home, all the day's planning and excitement and emotion was catching up with Tasha and she was right on that verge of letting the motion of the car send her drifting off.

"I ain't carryin' your ass, woman," came Happy's gruff voice, but there was only warmth in the hand that squeezed her knee to rouse her.

With a stifled yawn and a longing to finally kick off her heels, she climbed out of the passenger's seat and was reaching to retrieve her purse when something caught the corner of her eye. A hunched up figure sat on their porch in the near dark. It threw her for a second, but realisation started to seep in the next and then she was really moving. Despite the impractical footwear and with her purse forgotten, she hurried up the driveway with a sinking feeling in her gut. At least she was there and whole. Whatever it was, at least she was safe ...

"Mommy ..."

The younger woman, with her long blonde hair dishevelled and a livid bruise across her cheekbone, stumbled over the bag at her feet as she all but fell sobbing into Tasha's arms.

"Lily, darling, what's happened?" her mother demanded anxiously as she cast a look over her shoulder to where her husband had stopped, grim-faced and evidently putting the pieces together much quicker than she was. "Talk to me, sweetie."

But her daughter – her beautiful, kind, thoughtful not-so-little-anymore girl – was crying much too hard to supply any answers. Not that her step-father seemed to need them.

"I'll fucking kill him," Happy swore. "Slowly."

* * *

**to be continued ...**


	4. Four

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing and especially a certain bunch of lovely ladies for the support and being great people to bounce ideas off - you know who you are! :)**

* * *

**Four**

Knowing better than to get in the way, Tasha watched from the doorway as her husband focused on beating the shit out of the heavy punch-bag strung from the ceiling in their garage. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights, but dawn was already starting to streak the sky with gold, giving just enough of a glow to dilute the darkness and let her take in his lean, muscled silhouette.

Waiting until he had grabbed the bag with both hands to steady it and, breathing heavily, dropped his forehead against it, she made her way towards him. His name on her lips, however quiet, announced her presence. She knew that you didn't sneak up on a guy like Happy Lowman, no matter who you were and however well-intentioned such a move might be.

But, despite his lack of an active response, she knew he had heard her and slipped her arms around his waist as she rested her head against his bare back. Even after years together, he still seemed to be in almost as good shape as ever and she let her fingertips graze over his abs. "You doin' okay, tough guy?"

"Ain't the one with the busted face," he managed, with a growl of frustration as his hands tightened their grip on the bag. "Jesus, Tash, how the hell do you stay so fucking calm? I wanna check how she is, but I see that shit and ... Last thing Lily needs after this is me punching holes in the goddamn wall."

"Trust me, I'm not feeling too calm inside. But she's not a little girl anymore and she does understand, you know," Tasha said softly, pressing a tiny kiss to his tense shoulder and letting her lips linger there against his tan skin for a long moment. "You've been there for Lily her whole life, Hap - she knows you're not angry with her and that it's only because you care."

"Been out here trying to figure out if killing the bastard would make her more or less upset," he admitted, still hanging his head. "I should be in there worrying about her and instead I'm out here, trying to keep from scaring the shit outta her or just going straight round there and ripping his heart out through his throat!"

She could practically feel the fresh surge of rage coursing through him, but instead of pulling away, simply tugged on his arm to get him to turn around and meet her concerned green eyes. "I hate that he's hurt her too," she said, laying a soothing hand on his cheek as she looked up at him. "I trusted him with my little girl and now it looks like he's just breaking her heart. But beyond that, I don't give a shit about him now. Lily's my priority, simple as that."

Heaving a sigh, Happy finally relaxed enough to take his wife in his arms, pulling her close. "Kid's lucky she's got a fucking incredible mom," he mumbled in her ear, making her smile as he held her tight.

He may have been a man of few words, but he was surprisingly good at knowing the right thing to say. Better than he'd ever given himself credit for ...

_**FLASHBACK**_

"Koz would h-hate me for this ..."

Happy shook his head, tilting her tearful face up to his. "Nah, darlin', Koz could never hate ya. He knows this would never have happened if he'd still been here," he said. "You love him and you're hurtin' – anyone can see that. And I'm an asshole for trying to kid myself this was anything but a bad idea."

"Don't say that. You've been so good to me, Hap," Tasha whispered, wiping at her eyes. "Even if you are probably wondering how to make me disappear."

He snorted at that and cupped her cheek in one rough hand. "Never gonna want that, doll. Looks like you're the only bitch tough enough not to run a mile from me."

Her eyes drifting closed, she leaned into his touch for a second as she heaved a little sigh and her smaller hand covered his. She may have been confused about a lot of things, but there was one thing she did know. "You're a better man than you realise, Happy Lowman. What am I gonna do?"

"We'll figure it out," he told her. "You and me. Whatever you wanna do ... Ain't gonna be alone, Tash."

* * *

"So how's Lily doin'?"

"Cried herself to sleep, I think," Tasha sighed. "God, Hap, she's so shocked and ... and just _sad_. I am too. I honestly thought they were happy. Turns out he hit her because she caught him cheating. I got some ice for that bruise, but I want Tara to take a look in the morning – just in case. It's hard to tell when it's so swollen, but there is a chance she could have a fractured cheekbone ... She catches _him_ out and the bastard hits _her!_"

"Fucking hell," her husband growled, obviously trying to swallow down his anger again at that thought. "He answers for this, Tash. Has to. You know that, right?"

"I know," she nodded simply, resting her hands on his inked chest.

It had killed her just as much as him to see her daughter curled up on their couch and looking so lost. In her mind, it seemed like no time since she had been kissing her little girl's boo-boos better, patching up bumps and grazed knees. And yet there she was, sat next to a young woman who'd apparently been punched in the face by a grown man rather than pushed over by a boisterous little boy. Tasha wanted to know what could possibly have even come close to justifying in his mind the kind of blow that must have been inflicted.

But it had already been an emotional night and she didn't think she could stand to even look at the man responsible just yet. Especially not when he had her daughter desperately trying to make excuses for him. She understood, sympathised even, but it scared her too. Her girl, her beautiful girl, was smarter than that.

Yeah, it had been a hell of a night.

"You must be shattered," Happy said, running a hand through her hair and seeming to read her mind. "It's late. Or early, depending how you look at it. Should get some sleep, babe."

"Come inside then. Come to bed with me. Please?" she asked, looking up into his dark eyes and letting her arms slip around his neck as he leaned down for a kiss. "Lily's here, she's safe ... He'll keep."

* * *

Laid in the darkness in the room that used to be hers and had since passed to her youngest brother, Lily stared up at the ceiling and let a few slow tears slip down her cheeks unheeded. It was all she could see, every time she closed her eyes. Sometimes she didn't even need to do that – it was ingrained in her mind, burned there.

The sight of them, together.

Her phone lit up again with yet another call and she reached out to cancel it before the ringtone could disturb her mom and Happy. Another wave of guilt washed over her – for turning up out of the blue and making them worry, for running to them instead of dealing with her problems head-on. Her mom was so strong and she should be too, not crying into her pillow like a little girl.

Except Lily hadn't tended to cry a lot when she was little. She didn't know why, she just ... hadn't. She bottled things up and thought them through in her own head until she felt better about them, or she told whoever she thought would understand best why she felt sad. But life had been simpler then and tears had simply been an instinctive reaction to the worst of the injuries she'd picked up in the rough-and-tumble of having mostly boys to play with. Or to the really scary stuff, like when Happy got hurt saving her and her mom from some gang.

And when her daddy died.

That had been the worst – losing her lovely, smiley daddy with his big hugs had brought a sadness that had seemed like it was just too big to fit in her little six-year-old self. She hadn't been able to understand, no matter how hard she tried, why it had to be _her_ dad that went away. She had loved him with her whole heart, but one minute he'd been cuddled up with her for a bedtime story and the next day ...

Wiping the tears from beneath her lashes, Lily slipped out of bed and padded barefoot over to the window to pull back the curtains and gaze out at the tiny stars dotting the night sky. Compared to her dad, Hunter didn't deserve her sadness. She wasn't a little girl anymore and she was under no illusions what the Sons were capable of – her dad, Happy, Leo, and the men she considered her uncles – but they had never caused her hurt and had never been anything but protective her whole life.

The only person to shatter her trust was the man she was supposed to ...

Her reverie broken, a couple of the model motorcycles from her brother's collection clattered to the floor as she stumbled back in fright from the window. A hand flew instinctively to her throat and her heart pounded until it seemed to be the only thing she could hear, all at the realisation there was someone out there in the shadows. Someone looking up at her window, watching.

Waiting.

* * *

**to be continued ...**


End file.
